Come to the Well
by MarieQuiteContrarie
Summary: Belle is cool and cruel to Rumplestiltskin when she meets him at the well following his victory over Dark Hook on the Jolly Rodger. But all is not what it seems. A retelling of the possible events surrounding the 5x10 Rumbelle well scene, from Belle's point of view. (This fic is very pro Rumple).


Dear friends: While trying to keep my positive attitude alive for my favorite couple, I could not resist writing this fix-it fic for Rumbelle. It's my take on why Belle acted so strangely at the well in Episode 5x10. No matter what happens in the Winter Finale and whether you are reading this before or after we know the truth, remember that we always have fanon. I hope reading this tale soothes your battered hearts.

Woodenly, Belle waded away from the well, laden with guilt and pain. Every step that carried her away from Rumple was agony; both her body and soul screamed in protest as she dragged herself from the scene of her crimes.

At last, she allowed the tears she'd been keeping back to roll down her cheeks and drip soundlessly on the forest floor. It took every ounce of her willpower not to look back at her True Love, whose own eyes had glistened with moisture. Sagging against a tree several yards away, Belle dissolved into heavy sobs, collapsing to the cold, hard ground. She had dashed Rumple's spirits and shattered his tender heart. _Now who was the monster?_

Storybrooke was an unusual place and strange things happened every day. But never in Belle Gold's wildest dreams did she think she'd be making a deal with another Dark One, one who wore the face of Killian Jones.

Burying her face in her hands, she attempted to silence her harsh cries, wheezing roughly through parched, cracked lips. "Shut up, Belle," she hissed quietly. What if Rumple happened this way and saw or heard her? Divested of his trademark power and magic, yes, but a fool? Not in a thousand lifetimes.

He'd been contemplating Excalibur when she approached him, fingering the hilt, and she had ducked behind a copse of maples to look her fill at her strong, beautiful man. Panic welled up in her breast as she watched him smooth his hand over the sword. Was the blade calling to him, singing its siren song of lustful promises that the Darkness would never keep? Did he contemplate taking back the power? No! No, Rumple was strong, victorious. Why, he had crawled through the woods and the mines, weak and malnourished to warn her of danger; he had refused to run and protected her from Merida; he had used his wits to bargain with Emma for Merida's heart and the lives of her brothers; he had cooperated willingly with the Charmings, Regina, and Emma; he had pulled Excalibur from the stone.

Last, but never least, he had bested the Dark Hook, fighting with honor and without resorting to any magic or trickery. Well, maybe not bested him exactly. But he had survived the encounter with dignity thanks to her dirty deal. Temptations would come, yes, and so would losses. But Rumple needed to focus on his victories, both large and small. He could never know that his triumph over Hook had been her doing.

Anyway, it didn't matter. Rumple didn't need to prove himself to anyone. She'd been in love with him from the very first, when he had swept her away from her father's castle and given her life meaning and purpose. Win or lose, Dark One or man, sparkling grey-gold or smooth and tan, Rumple was her hero—now and always.

And so she had pushed her morbid thoughts away to drink in every detail of his beautiful profile, memorizing the slope of his shoulders, his angular cheekbones, his soft brown hair rustling in the breeze. Biting the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood, Belle gazed at Rumple with unconcealed longing. Aching with want, she imagined running her hands over the planes of his hard chest, carding her fingers through those unruly strands, and smothering his face with adoring kisses. What she wouldn't do for the simple joy of holding him one last time, telling him here in this special spot they both treasured how proud she was of all he had accomplished and endured.

But that would have made what had to come next even worse.

"Come to the well," he had appealed after the Heroes roundtable, "and I will know how you feel." When he saw her, his eyes had sparkled with joy as his lips had curved into a pleased smile. Bounding over to her with all the excitement and energy of a newborn pup, he'd clasped her hands eagerly. But she'd blocked him, pushing him away. Cruelly, she'd told him she didn't know if she wanted to make their marriage work. _Lies!_ her mind had screamed, even as her lips betrayed them both. She'd been cold, distant, and disinterested, bringing up just enough of the past to twist the knife. She'd confused him, to be sure. Just last night she had told him it was never too late. They'd also forgiven each other before he fell into the coma. But maybe if he thought she still harbored those sins against him, he would become bitter toward her and be relieved to see her gone. She would gladly bear the weight of all this misery upon her own shoulders. After all he'd suffered, Rumple deserved to be _free_.

Belle laughed ruefully. Until recently, the well had been a place of happiness for them. A place of laughter, talking, kissing, and lovemaking. A place of renewal, of chances, and the eternal promise of happily ever after. She had gotten her memories back here. They had said their vows here, renewing their promises of a lifetime forever. But then Regina had stolen Belle's heart and used her to hurt Rumple. Now the Dark Hook was playing a similar game. At least with her leaving town for good, no one could use her as a pawn against Rumple ever again. However bleak life looked at the moment, she had to hold onto a shred of hope.

Yes, she was venturing out into an unknown world alone, but she had succeeded. She had been Rumple's unsung hero. Belle's terrible lies had saved Rumple from being slaughtered on the deck of the Jolly Roger. That alone was worth any cost. Oh, she believed in him. It wasn't that Rumple wasn't strong, fit, and handy with a sword. But Hook was equally so, and now he had dark magic at his disposal. Making the deal had been the right thing to do. Rumple had come too far to lose his chance at a new life. But why did they have to live this new life apart?

Perhaps she could find some other way for Rumple to learn the truth, she mused. Get him a message without the Dark One finding out? No. She had to borrow a page from Rumplestiltskin's book and learn to be the unselfish one. He was working so hard to be the man behind the dealmaker's mask; the man she had always known and loved. Without the Darkness, he was finally free. God, she was proud of him.

Eventually he would move on, find someone else who would love and cherish him in a way that was worthy of all he had to offer. In a way that she would never be allowed to do. The unbidden image of Rumple in the arms of a nameless, faceless woman sprang to mind, making her stomach lurch. Cramps seized her unsettled belly and Belle sank to her knees, vomiting in the dirt.

"Now that's disgusting," a voice sneered. The toe of a shiny black boot swam into focus beneath her nose.

Wiping her damp mouth on her sleeve, Belle glared defiantly into the smug face of the Dark Hook. Impulsively, she spit on his boot, pleased to see the remnants of her illness leaving an ugly stain on the smooth surface. "Your true nature is showing," Belle observed wryly.

With a long-suffering sigh, he magicked the minor mess away with a wave of his hook. "Don't approve of my wardrobe, love?" he laughed. "Pity; I thought you had a penchant for leather."

"Not on you. You don't wear it half as well as Rumple did," Belle shot back. She was not afraid of this conniving bastard. Aside from killing her, there was nothing more he could do to bring her pain. Dark magic was exacting, and so long as she held up her end of the bargain, Rumple would be fine. "What the hell do you want? I've done what you asked of me."

"Not quite. I'm here to ensure you fulfill the second part of our deal," he gloated. "'I spent too many years mending your heart. Now I need to protect mine,'" he mimicked in a high-pitched squeal, bringing hand and hook together in a round of mock applause. "Masterful performance, love. But your job isn't finished yet. Time to start packing. In pirate speak, you set sail tonight. No more suggestive riddles about hearts—if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll gut your conquering hero like the spineless lizard he is. Would it please you to watch him writhe in agony? To see me take that empty shell of a heart and pulverize it?"

"Don't you dare even speak about him," she whispered angrily, shaking her head. "He's everything. You are nothing. His heart is pure. And yours is _still_ rotten." Belle couldn't bear another moment in Hook's presence. Twisted as he was by the Darkness, she couldn't make him see reason now any more than she could when he was fully human. Hauling herself back to her feet, she began to pick her way over the uneven terrain once more.

"Allow me," Hook offered with fake gallantry, sending her to the pawnshop in a swirl of grey smoke.

xoxo

Back at the shop, Belle stuffed her suitcase full, her clothes now soggy from her relentless sobbing. The last time she had packed for a trip…well, she didn't want to think about the events of that fateful night. If only she hadn't been such a fool, she could have crossed the town line with Rumple and never looked back.

"Belle." She startled at the sound of her name, rubbing at her puffy, red-rimmed eyes. "Where are you going?" Heaving a sigh of relief, Belle turned to face her visitor. It was only Henry, thank God. There was no way she could face Rumple again in this condition.

"Henry, hi," Belle hiccupped. "What are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you that question," he glared accusingly. "What the hell did you do to Grandpa? He's sitting at Granny's, staring into an untouched glass of iced tea. After everything he's done for you, proving how he's changed, being the man we've always known he could be, now you abandon him? Now? How could you do this, Belle? I hate you! I hate all of you!" Stunned once more by the screwed up state of his family, Henry began to cry.

Belle's pale, stricken face mirrored his own, and in her sad blue eyes Henry sussed out the truth. "He got to you, didn't he?"

"What?" Belle cast her eyes to the polished wood floor and forced a watery laugh. "I don't know what you're talking about. I-I'm just going on a little…holiday."

"That's not true!" Henry sobbed. "You're the worst liar I know. He's destroying everything. We have to stop him!"

"It's not that simple anymore. Please, please don't tell your grandfather," Belle begged piteously. "I was able to convince him back at the well. Henry, please. If the Dark One finds out, he'll kill Rumple. I can't bear to lose him that way. That's how selfish I am—I want to know that when I leave, he'll be safe, alive, and happy. Promise me."

"I promise. But happy?" Henry echoed reluctantly. "How can the Beast be happy without his Beauty?"

"Please, Henry. Don't pull the Author card now. Don't make this any harder for me," she whispered. "Besides, he's not a Beast anymore. Not that it mattered to me when he was. God, I love him so much. Those were the only honest words I spoke to him at the well. Everything else was a lie or a half-truth. I had to make him believe that I wanted to go. After I've gone, will you tell him again? Tell him—"

"Tell me what?" Rumplestiltskin interrupted hoarsely. Flanked by the curtains, he stood stiffly in doorway to the back room, wearing a confused expression and a creased suit. Hurt radiated from him in waves.

"Uh, I'd better go," Henry mumbled, turning scarlet. His grandfather and Belle had eyes only for each other. "Good night, Grandpa. Good night, Belle."

"Good night, son," Rumple replied, his loving yet accusing gaze never leaving Belle's face. "Henry, wait." Rumple turned around. "Earlier today, when you said I had changed? Thank you."

"It's the truth," Henry replied simply, giving his grandfather a sheepish smile and leaning into Belle for a hard, fast hug. "See you tomorrow." And with that, Henry slipped out the door, leaving Rumple and Belle alone.

For a moment, awkward silence reigned as they stared at one another.

"Hey," he offered. An olive branch.

"Hey," she replied, bewildered. How on earth was she to behave now?

Rounding the workbench, Rumple broke the tension by closing the lid on Belle's overstuffed suitcase, snapping the fasteners to secure her belongings. "There," he said, satisfied. "All set."

"Thank you," she told the workbench. It seemed all her tears of anguish were for naught. Rumple wanted her to go after all. Her rejection of him had been part of an act; now he was rejecting her in a fitting punishment. Turnabout was fair play, she supposed sadly. It was no more than she deserved.

"Belle." Cupping her chin with his warm palms, he gently lifted her face to meet his knowing expression. Her heart overflowed with a mixture of disbelief, love, and gratitude. It was all there in his expressive brown eyes; he hadn't believed her lies, had seen right through her attempts to shield him from further grief. "Tell me what, Belle?"

"I love you," she mouthed, keenly aware that the Dark Hook could be spying on them even now. " _And I have to protect my heart_." Meaningfully, she laid her hand against his chest, feeling the steady thump of that heart; strong, and pure, and full of love.

"And I have to protect mine," he answered, pressing his own fingers to her sternum.

Feeling utterly wretched and unworthy of his devotion, Belle's control shattered as she wound her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shirt, allowing herself the luxury of crying in his arms.

"Shhhh, sweetheart," he crooned into her ear. "I'm here, my love. I'm here."

After a few minutes, she calmed, pulling back slightly to kiss the tears from his cheeks. Rumple was so sensitive, so tender and kind. "I can't believe you knew."

"Of course I knew, sweetheart. I know _you_ ," he teased, bringing a moment of levity to their never-ending story of hardship and loss. "Women are changeable, I know, but a complete turnaround in a matter of hours?" He chuckled gravely.

"But did you know about—"

Rumple interrupted Belle's speech with a trembling fingertip, silencing her. "Shhh. He's watching, aye? I won't risk him finding out until you've gone."

Belle nodded slowly, understanding.

"Here, take this," he reached into the pocket of his greatcoat to push a small bag into her hands. "Just a touch of magic. So you can return to me when all of this is over. Also, I want you to take the car. I won't have you wandering through the Maine woods on foot all the way to that bloody diner."

"Rumple, wait…" Belle hesitated. Maybe there was a way for her to stay now after all?

"Sweetheart, the Dark Ones are coming; they may even be here now. Hook has already called upon them. As the only Dark One who's been to Hell and back again, he used my blood to bring them to Storybrooke." His tone was fierce, urgent. "They won't stop until everyone I love is dead and they've dragged me back to Hell. You need to go now."

"But I don't want to leave you. I want to stay and fight, too," she said stubbornly.

"Then we will both be at greater risk," he reminded her. "I can't protect you here, Belle."

"Come with me, then," she implored, resting her forehead against his. "I was wrong before when I said running away wasn't the solution. Sometimes it's the _only_ solution."

"For you, yes. You're always one to stand up and fight, sweetheart. But me? My first impulse is to run. And that's why I have to stay. To finish what I started and stop the Darkness once and for all. I'm learning, Belle. I'm learning how to be a hero. But I'm also learning that being a hero means different things for different people."

"You've always been a hero, Rumple. You just needed to see it for yourself," she reassured him. "And you know what else? I have the kindest, wisest, most wonderful husband in all the realms." Unwinding her scarf to unbutton the first few buttons on her blouse, she drew out a chain suspended around her neck. Dangling between her breasts was her wedding ring.

"My sweetheart," he murmured, brushing his mouth over her knuckles. "Am I still your husband? You kept it with you all this time?"

"No matter how things seemed, Rumple, I never, ever stopped loving you. Will you put it on me now?" She held out the ring and he accepted it, sliding it home.

She bussed his lips with hers in a tender exchange. But that chaste kiss lit a spark as the tension between them heightened abruptly, spiraling into something urgent and needy.

Mouths opening in unison, they crashed together in a desperate clash of teeth and tongues, sucking, biting, and consuming each other in a blistering kiss of sheer longing.

"God, Belle," he moaned, tearing his mouth away from her questing tongue to unbuckle his belt and unzip his trousers.

"Rumple?" Belle questioned through a haze of desire.

"Just once, Belle. I must." Their twin breaths were harsh and ragged in the quiet shop.

"Yes," she invited, raising her skirt as he cupped her bottom and lifted her onto the worktable. Already hypersensitive to his touch, she could deny him nothing. So many long, lonely nights in a cold bed, she thought as he took advantage of her gaping shirt to lave her neck with his warm, rough tongue. Dimly, she realized they were both fully clothed except for the crucial bits, but it didn't matter. Even these last stolen moments of lovemaking would give them precious memories to cling to during their separation. "Oh, Rumple, hurry!"

Pushing into her core with a cry, he thrust furiously as she wrapped her legs around his waist, digging her heels into his flanks. "Love you," he groaned, slamming into her.

"Love you, too," she responded, grabbing his hair and tugging his chest flush with her breasts for another wet, searing kiss.

The pace of their union was frantic, their bodies instinctively knowing how little time was left. Like a bolt of lightning, Belle's release ripped through her and she screamed his name once, twice, three times. Tumbling over the edge with her, Rumple threw his head back with a primal roar of ecstasy.

For a moment they held each other as their racing hearts slowed, but all too soon Rumple disengaged himself from their tangle of limbs, lowering and smoothing her skirt and tucking himself back into his trousers. He kissed her sweetly with his eyes open and she understood completely because she couldn't rob herself of one last sight of him, either.

"You have to go now, sweetheart," he directed, dragging her suitcase off the worktable, out the side door of the shop, and into the alleyway where the car was parked.

"I know," she sighed, resigned but strangely content. Easing into the driver's seat of the Cadillac she held up her mobile phone and promised, "I'll call you the moment I cross the line. Be safe, Rumpelstiltskin. I love you so much."

"And I love you, too, Belle. Forever." He smiled the brief, satisfied smile of a man who knew in whose hands his heart was kept. "As soon as Storybrooke is secure, I'll call you home."

"Where should I meet you?" she asked, drawing his hand along her cheek for one last nuzzle.

"That's easy," he replied, his lips turning up at the corners and his eyes shining with love. "Come to the well."

 _Thank you for reading. What did you think? Comments, feedback, and questions are always welcome._


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